In Brevity
by pbw
Summary: Thirty days of drabble writing.
1. Beginning

_So….I found this 30 day challenge on Tumblr. It's a href-" post/24317456361/using-the-prompts-below-write-a-drabble-orhere/a if you are interested. And I almost never back down from a challenge...and truly, I am stuck in all other stories and welcome a bit of help getting unstuck._

_I will endeavor to stick to the rules of the challenge by only writing 100 words for each drabble, every day for 30 days. Wish me luck!_

_Once, again, thank you for reading. Nothing is mine. Please do not hesitate to let me know of errors (of any kind) and thank you for reading._

_xo_

* * *

It was almost too easy. The mark gullible, the players experienced, the pay-off unbelievable. But, like all things in life, nothing was ever simple. Jealousies, double-crossed, and a particularly adept Detective caused the entire operation to collapse. And the Leader? Well, he had to run for his life. No one got away from the Madman without getting hurt. But what the Madman didn't realize was the Leader's amazing ability to blend in. So, he did. He managed to convince that especially competent, adept, and bloody gorgeous Detective to let the Leader crash with him, causing a new beginning for him.

* * *

_Reviews are nice, but not entirely necessary for my mental well-being._


	2. Accusation

_Nothing is mine. See something wonky? Let me know. _**  
**

* * *

They had never really talked about it. Things quickly moved once the reveal was made - one remained with the doctor in his sights. Feelings, accusations and explanations were all placed on hold while they dealt with one last spider. Afterwards, neither one broached the topic again, quietly being filed away for another day. However, days became weeks, became months and the topic was pushed forth spectacularly when the mad genius disappeared again. Not for three years mind you, just three days. When he came back emotions came hurtling on the delivery of a punch followed by a passionate kiss.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	3. Restless

_Nothing is mine, Brit picked or beta read. If you see something wonky, please let me now._

* * *

Another day, another opportunity to feel useless and restless. They had brilliantly solved another case with his help and now after stuffing themselves silly and sleeping most of the day, he awoke to find himself alone and impatient.

He got up and called out for his partner in crime. The flat was silent. He sighed and went to lay on the couc. He stared up at the ceiling willing for something interesting to happen. But nothing happened. Frustrated, he began pacing the flat from one end to the other, muttering. It wasn't until Sherlock came home that John calmed down.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	4. Snowflake

_Nothing is mine, beta-read or Brit-picked. See something wonky? Let me know._

* * *

He stood in the park, marveling at the cold, not caring that people were staring. A long, dry and hot summer and autumn only exacerbated his easily irritable friend, but for John, this first truly cold day only reminded him that he was alive. Alive!

John looked up at the grey and gloomy sky only to be rewarded with a few snowflakes that gently floated down from the sky. He laughed and easily caught it on his tongue. He went to chase another when a black gloved hand stopped him.

John smiled and said, "come on then, let's go home."

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	5. Haze

_Nothing is mine, Brit-picked or beta-read. See something wonky? Let me know._

* * *

The haze of midday cracked everyone, especially the even tempered John Watson. He snapped at the crime scene and brought Donovan to tears. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and made to query him when John rounded on Sherlock.

"I don't want to hear it," John said and left.

"I'll text you," Sherlock said absently.

"Yeah, you do that," Lestrade said. "Make sure he's okay."

Sherlock observed the manic pacing, the way he rubbed his left shoulder and the ever increasing limp.

"John," Sherlock said, "if I have any power at all, I will make sure that you never return there again."

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	6. Flame

_Nothing is mine, Beta-read or Brit-picked. See something wonky? Please let me know._

* * *

Sherlock stared at his experiment. He was no longer interested in the results, having fallen into a trap-door of his mind palace.

_Interesting, _he thought, _I don't recall putting one here. _Admittedly, he was in the heart of it and hadn't accessed it in months, perhaps years. _Not since John moved in, _Sherlock thought, slowly coming to a realization.

He registered John's tread on the stairs, heavier than usual. _Sister? No. Shopping? _He looked up as John was coming in.

"Come on, then. Help me out," John said a bit amused.

Sherlock nodded hoping the flame of his cheeks went unnoticed.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	7. Formal

_Nothing is mine, Brit-picked or beta-read. See something wonky? Let me know._

* * *

Sherlock worried his lip, taking glances at John when he thought he wasn't looking. _How was one supposed to express interest in another? Especially, one who was heterosexual? _Admittedly, Sherlock saw John lingering on Lestrade and as much as that pained him, Sherlock agreed Lestrade was pleasing to the eye.

Discovering his feelings, Sherlock had done everything he could not to broadcast his thoughts, exasperating John and panicking Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" John asked. He was standing close. Sherlock's eyes widened as he scrambled backwards into his chair. "You needn't be so formal when you want to date someone," John said and kissed Sherlock soundly.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	8. Companion

_Nothing is mine, beta read or Brit-picked. See something off? Let me know._

* * *

John didn't quite see himself as Sherlock's equal; friend, flatmate, blogger but never equal. Sherlock's mind ran too fast and hot for John.

John imagines that if he ever found himself in Sherlock's mind palace that he would just be lost, unable to find the front door. You know, if there was a front door. John doesn't necessarily believe that there is a front door or even windows for that matter.

John sees how hurt Sherlock gets when other see him as a freak. He wants to be more than a companion to Sherlock. He wants to be his heart.

* * *

_Reviews are nice but not necessary to my mental well-being. Thank you for reading._


	9. Move

_Nothing is mine, beta-read or Brit picked. _

* * *

Sherlock couldn't move. It wasn't because he didn't want to move, he just...couldn't move. John sitting on Sherlock's lap didn't budge and neither could he.

The case required working in a sex club...necessitating the two of them to act as lovers...leading John to be dosed with a chemical that instantly aroused the wearer by the first person they saw.

Naturally, that was Sherlock.

Of course, Sherlock solved the case hours ago, opting not to tell John and instead gathering data about sexuality.

He did not expect John's reaction. And now he was stuck with an amorous John.

* * *

_Reviews are nice, but not necessary to my mental well-being. Thank you for reading._


	10. Silver

_Nothing is mine. _

* * *

The silver streaks naturally looked good on Sherlock. It peeked here and there through his raven locks and only made the silly man look even more appealing.

Age looked good on Sherlock Holmes.

Age, John thought, did not look go on him. The first few strands John found on his head were meticulously plucked out and thrown away. John, wasn't a vain man, but one could not help but feel inferior to Sherlock.

John sighed, looking at his reflection. Old man, he thought, who'd ever want me?

As if on cue, Sherlock slid up beside him and said, "I do."

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	11. Prepared

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Sherlock was prepared. John raced to the flat hearing the news about Mrs. Hudson. It pained him knowing that John thought him uncaring. But he needed to see the game to the end.

Moriarty would never let them be.

Sherlock took a deep breath, stood up, straightening his suit and picking off lint from his shoulders. He dusted his coat and wound the scarf around his neck.

Molly entered the lab and helped Sherlock ready himself. She didn't speak and neither did he. They had said all what they needed to say...almost.

"Take care of John."

"Yes."

"Thank you."

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	12. Knowledge

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Mycroft has a world of knowledge at his fingertips. He knows about the coup going on in a small nation. He knows which political leaders frequent which brothels and their brand of poison. He even knows which celebrity couples are due for a break-up.

What he doesn't know can fill a post-it note. It's not a note but a photograph. Mycroft tugs it out only at night behind closed, locked doors and drawn curtains.

It's a snapshot of a boy with messy dark hair with unusual eyes. He's smiling broadly and he holds the hand of his proud older brother.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	13. Denial

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

_Oh, hell, he thought, what can of worms have I opened? It's taken me weeks to clean up his last mess and now a visit from Mycroft? Someone must hate me._

"Good afternoon, Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes. What can I do for you?" _Please don't ask me for a favor. _

Mycroft chuckled. "I am here to ask you if you would like to have dinner with me."

Greg blinked.

And then opened and shut his mouth several times. _How the hell did he know that I fancied him? Oh, stop. Say yes and stop being in denial. _

* * *

_Thanks for reading._


	14. Wind

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Time slowed down. The wind was swirling around Sherlock. Jim Moriarty lay dead behind him blood and brains all over the roof.

Overhead, birds twittered about uncaring of the impending tragedy. Sherlock could see John racing towards him. He was still moving in slow motion. If Sherlock didn't jump John, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade would all be dead.

He had thrown his phone away after begging and bidding goodbye to the one person he truly cared about. It was a long way down from the roof.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, took a breath and flung himself forward.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	15. Order

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Everything in 221B had a specific place. A niche. It was something sherlock needed, no demanded in order to function properly.

But, Sherlock realized, John had an order all of his own. Of course he would, he is a military man. Sherlock, of course, had been in John's room. he was blatantly curious of the type of man who would kill for him within 24 hours of meeting.

Hospital corners. books by genre. Things placed neatly. Shoes lined up. No dust in sight. Laptop at the desk with his gun in the drawer.

It was order but not Sherlock's order.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	16. Thanks

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Every morning when John woke up, he gave thanks to whatever deity would receive it. He was thankful for being alive, relatively healthy, having a roof over his head and the love of a good (if slightly insane) mane.

He work first, naturally, and gazed lovingly at Sherlock's sleeping form. He was usually wrapped around John like a giant child around his teddy bear. If he was especially lucky, Hamish would be clinging to his dad's other side, blanky wrapped around him and sucking his thumb.

John swallowed the lump in his throat and hugged Sherlock and Hamish tightly.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	17. Look

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Despite what the Consulting Detective says, he is always perfecting his look. He knows that he is a very attractive man - the double takes he receives from everyone confirms this.

But it is the long appreciative look he receives from John Watson that makes him want to strut like a peacock.

He chooses his clothing carefully - the purple satin button down is John's favorite - always examining the clothing that he knows accentuates his assets.

Sherlock does not know if he is actively trying to seduce him but Sherlock does appreciate the looks he catches from John Watson.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	18. Summer

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

John loves the seasons: the crunch of leaves and the crispness of the air in autumn; the frosty feeling in the winter; the bright colors and the smell of flowers in spring.

But he loves the summer the most; the feeling of the sun against his sticky skin, the buzzing city and the shedding of clothing amongst his fellow Londoners.

John Watson may be a gentleman but that doesn't mean that he doesn't look. He loves seeing the creamy, pale skin, the long legs and the freckles - especially Sherlock's freckles.

Which is probably why he loves summer the most.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	19. Transformation

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Greg quietly watched Sherlock's transformation from being completely insufferable to being mildly insufferable. This was all due to John, the quietly unassuming, seemingly ordinary former army doctor, recently and honorably discharged.

John could easily transform himself as well. Greg knew damn well who shot Jeff Hope that first night. But he chose to look the other way. As time went on the more Greg Lestrade looked the other way.

It all came to a head with Sherlock's supposed suicide. He proved to them - all of them - just how far Sherlock would go to protect those he cared for_**.**_

* * *

_****__Thank you for reading._


	20. Tremble

_Nothing is mine._

_I really like this one. I'll try to explore it later._

* * *

The ground should shake beneath her feet, open and swallow her whole. Birds should swoop down from the sky and peck her eyes, pull her hair and scar her face.

"How do you feel about housing a charlatan?" Kitty asked Mrs. Hudson.

"How do you feel about playing a part in the death of a man, destroying someone's reputation based on lies?" Mrs. Hudson snapped.

"It hasn't been proven - " Kitty said.

"Oh? Then you most certainly don't read the paper," Mrs Hudson said thrusting it at her.

Kitty Riley felt the earth tremble as she read the headlines: "Sherlock Holmes Redeemed."

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	21. Sunset

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Standing on the rooftop, Sherlock watched John's retreating back. He had been at Sherlock's grave from sunrise to sunset, not speaking, not moving.

There was nothing Sherlock could do to comfort his best friend. Moriarty's men were still at large, ready to do harm if Sherlock didn't stop them.

It was no longer a matter of playing a game. It was a matter of eradicating those who wanted to hurt those Sherlock cared for. It was a matter of proving that he had a heart. It was a matter of realizing who he was.

Sherlock was a man on a mission.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	22. Mad

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

Sherlock had clearly underestimated how mad John would be when Sherlock revealed himself to John. He had no real understanding of what John would do to him once the door opened.

Sherlock sat dazed on the ground, one hand covering his right eye, the other holding his jaw. John looked down on the other man and cracked his knuckles and before Sherlock knew what was happening, John had hauled him and hoisted Sherlock over his shoulder and up the stairs.

There, John deposited SHerlock on the sofa and went to get the first aid supplies.

Clearly, Sherlock had underestimated John Watson.

* * *

_Thanks for reading._


	23. Thousand

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

"Just what exactly does Sherlock need one thousand individual cat hairs for?" muttered John as he carefully laid each one flat on the table. "And different cat hairs? Seriously?" John had been counting since 10 that morning when Sherlock demanded that he help him with an experiment.

Now, here it was twelve hours later with no mad consulting detective around to begin his experiment.

Finally, John heard Sherlock's familiar tread on the steps and looked up ready to greet the other man.

To John's irritation the other man was Mycroft who accidentally scattered the carefully counted cat hair all over the flat.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	24. Outside

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

**__**Big fat lazy bees buzzed and floated outside. They danced around a cheerful Sherlock who spoke to them quietly. John stood at the window, mug in hand, watching his retired consulting detective.

John was apprehensive when they retired to the countryside. Sherlock had resisted every step until John was seriously injured while chasing another criminal. John couldn't shake the look on Sherlock's face as he hovered about his beloved.

"I'll retire, John. I swear. Please don't leave me."

John finally relaxed when the bees arrived, easing Sherlock's frenetic mind.

They'd be all right. They were always going to be all right.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	25. Winter

_Nothing is mine._

_A companion piece to Summer._

* * *

Sherlock couldn't care less about the passing of time. But, Sherlock loved winter. The season made it a legitimate reason to pull out his heavy coat, the soft cashmere scarf and the supple leather gloves.

John joked that this was his standard uniform; his armor against the world and what it threw at him. Sherlock blinked at his flatmate before covering his expression.

John wasn't wrong.

Sherlock long since learned to develop a thick skin, a deaf ear and a blind eye to the world. Since John joined him, Sherlock began to relax, to actually feel without the winter armour.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	26. Diamond

_Nothing is mine._

_Silly, silly, silly._

* * *

"What is so important about 2012?"

"Are you mad? No, don't answer. "

…

"Oh, stop it. Don't give me that look."

"Succinct."

"Shut it."

"Seriously, what is so important about 2012?"

…

"Stop blinking at me. I remember Irene Adler. I don't immediately delete everything."

"You remember her?"

"Stop."

"What?"

"Just stop."

"Fine."

…

…

"John?"

…

"John?"

…

Please don't be upset."

…

"John? Would you please tell me?"

"It's the Diamond Jubilee."

"Is that why you gave me these?"

"I gave you diamond cufflinks because I wanted to."

"Oh."

…

"They are quite lovely."

…

"However, I dno't need tokens of your affection when I have you."

"Come here."

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	27. Letters

_Thank you for reading._

_I like this one too. Maybe, it'll be expanded._

* * *

For the three years Sherlock was "away," he wrote one letter per day to John. When the last piece of Moriarty's puzzle was eliminated, he left the letters where John could find them, not being able to face him.

After all Sherlock did to keep John safe, he lacked the courage to face him. Sherlock couldn't bear the thought that John might never want to see him again.

Sherlock wandered London until he came upon the cemetery with his empty grave. John stood holding a box.

"I wrote these to you everyday," John said thrusting the box at Sherlock. "Welcome home."

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	28. Promise

_Thank you for reading._

* * *

"Goodnight, I promise to see you in the morning," John said as he brushed the tiny curls off Hamish's forehead. John turned to see Sherlock standing, arms crossed.

"What is it?"

"Why did you promise to see him in the morning?"

"It's something my mum said to us when we were young. It was automatic."

"One day we won't be there to see him in the morning. Then all your promises will be broken."

"He's young and we will see him the morning for many years."

Sherlock remained unconvinced.

"We won't turn into your parents. I can promise you this."

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	29. Simple

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

_It should've been so simple,_ John thought wildly. He paced his bedroom, running a hand through his sandy hair. _Courage, Watson, courage._ _You've helped wounded soldiers on the front lines, faced down Mycroft Holmes time and time again and fought and killed for a brilliant, mad genius._

So, why does admitting your feelings to the World's Only Consulting detective scare John Watson so much?

"It's because you're an idiot," Sherlock said at John's door.

"That's my line."

Sherlock smiled as John's stomach fluttered.

"Did you have something to say?" Sherlock didn't move.

John smiled as he moved to kiss Sherlock.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	30. Future

_Nothing is mine._

* * *

When John got shot in Afghanistan he didn't think he had a future. He thought about his life and wondered if he had made a wrong turn somewhere. John thought he was meant to have a wife, kids and a quiet practice somewhere in the country.

Now, it seemed that John would never have any of these things.

When John met Sherlock, he never imagined that he would kill someone for him within 24 hours. He had no thought much of his future since returning home. But now John started to imagine a different future: a future with Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


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